


not speaking, not breathing (the curtain's folding)

by sandpapersnowman



Series: ghost peter au [1]
Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Turned Into a Ghost, First Time, Ghost Sex, Kinda, M/M, Masturbation, Memory Related, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, ish, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 04:30:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14709125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandpapersnowman/pseuds/sandpapersnowman
Summary: Roman sees him for the first time at the ice cream shop.He's just... There. Sitting at the table in the corner with an ice cream cone. He's not even eating it; he's staring out the window while the whole thing melts down his arm.





	not speaking, not breathing (the curtain's folding)

**Author's Note:**

> i dreamt about the concept for this like 6 or 7 months ago and it's been, no pun intended, Haunting Me ever since
> 
> title bastardized from the faint's [Posed to Death](https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/faint/posedtodeath.html)

Roman sees him for the first time at the ice cream shop.

He's just... There. Sitting at the table in the corner with an ice cream cone. He's not even eating it; he's staring out the window while the whole thing melts down his arm.

Roman wants to walk up to him and ask what he's doing here, like Peter had only driven away and out of town.

Peter's been dead for almost a month, though.

He doesn't look it. He's a little paler than he should be, and there's bags under his eyes like he's never had a good night's sleep in his life, but he's otherwise... Intact.

Roman had almost forgotten what Peter said about removing the heads of his kind. He almost left him whole, just to see what happened, but he rationalized it to himself as keeping Peter at peace.

A lot of good that did.

Roman ignores him that day. If it's a hallucination, he should pretend it's not there. If it's not a hallucination, and Peter's trying to haunt him or something, Roman isn't going to give him the satisfaction.

The next time Peter shows up, it's when Roman needs time away from everything else and finds himself driving out to Peter's old trailer.

There he is, in the hammock. His eyes are closed and he's got his hands behind his head, and for a split second, Roman just thinks he's _home_. He's 18 again and Peter felt like walking back to his place so he could shoplift without the most noticeable boy in Hemlock Grove at his side, but still told Roman to meet him back at the trailer anyway, and Roman just parked his car and walked down the steps to meet him.

Roman kissed him here, once. Peter was asleep and snoring softly, and he just looked so calm.

He never had the guts to kiss him on the lips, but he's pressed his nose to Peter's head and breathed him in more times than Peter knows.

Roman approaches him slowly. Peter's been dead for a month and a half, and Roman's thought about how he should address this. Would Peter know he's dead, if this is real?

He stands at Peter's side for a moment. He looks a little more alive this time, like it could really just be Peter. The hammock doesn't distend under him like it should, though, and he feels like that'd be accounted for if this was a hallucination.

_Shit_.

Peter opens his eyes and smiles up at him. Roman goes cold, but Peter seems to be focused on something behind him.

He turns to see what it is but there's nothing there, and when he turns back, Peter is gone.

It's another month before he shows up again. Roman got around to repairing his father's car out of sentimentality, and the first time he settles into the driver's seat again, Peter is there beside him.

"Peter?" he whispers, afraid to acknowledge him, but _needing_ to.

Peter doesn't respond, and Roman realizes this is familiar. This was the first time Peter had ridden in his father's car, and he'd spent the whole ride looking like a dog with its head out the window, enjoying the breeze and occasionally smiling over at Roman.

He could barely keep his eyes on the road with Peter next to him, and there had been no hiding it, but Peter hadn't said anything.

His hair almost blows, going a phantom 60 down the highway. They’d been playing music so low it was almost silent under the wind, but not having it on would have made this feel a little too much like _something_. Roman wishes, once again, that things had been different.

"Peter?" Roman says, less subtly. It's Peter's memories, it's Peter's body language, it's Peter's _smile_ \-- it _must_ be Peter.

His smile falters as though he's finally heard Roman, but when he looks toward the driver's seat, he still doesn't seem to see him.

Peter opens his mouth, like he's about to call out _hello?_ or _who's there?_ , but he vanishes. No puff of smoke, no fading away; in one moment he's there, and then it's like reality itself swallows him back up in an instant.

Roman wants to call out to him again, but the dread and longing ache in his stomach make him feel like he would suffer the same fate if he spoke.

Peter's gone for a long time after that.

Roman forgets about him as much as he can -- he still has nightmares every night, shattered and fragmented dreams that are too heavy without someone to share their toll or dreams about killing Peter and him not staying dead, and things only getting worse between them.

Sometimes Roman remembers to take his head off in the nightmares, and then there’s more blood smeared on him from holding Peter’s face and sobbing over him, kissing cold, dead lips as though it would turn back time and make them _better_ again.

His house is too quiet, even with a new full-time nanny and Nadia getting older and more active.

It's been almost a year, then. Roman gives the nanny the night off because Nadia sleeps through the night most of the time, and he's starting to feel barely okay enough to take care of her when he can. She's his daughter, and God knows neither of his parents were there for him when it counted. He's not going to fuck up like Olivia fucked up.

This night is quiet, but peaceful.

He's got a fist around his dick when Peter shows up on top of him.

He hears him before he sees him -- his eyes are closed and the only sound in the room is his own shaky, quiet breathing, and then there's a softly sighed swear from somewhere above him.

His eyes shoot open and there he is. Peter's straddling him, naked and sitting straight up as he lowers himself over not quite Roman's lap, but his thighs.

Peter looks vaguely in his direction, like he's listening, then laughs. Roman's heart could break from the sound.

"Yeah," he says, replying to an unheard question. "It's not too bad."

Roman gulps comically loud in his room.

This was their first time.

They'd spent what felt like forever kissing while Roman fingered him open, and eventually Peter had pulled away and shuddered out "God, Roman, you've gotta do it _now_."

Roman had been higher on the bed, not slouched toward the middle like he is now.

He feels guilty for it, but he can't resist moving up to line himself up with Peter's line of sight.

Peter rocks experimentally on him and Roman can almost feel it. Peter's not _really_ here, he can't touch him, but if he's careful he can reach down and keep jerking himself off without breaking the illusion too badly.

Thank God Destiny is dead; somehow she would _know_ about this, he's sure.

(She probably knows anyway.)

God, he looks so good. Peter's hands were propped on his own thigh and Roman's waist, and the one on his waist almost lines up with him now. He remembers how rough Peter's hands had felt, skin toughened from driving and picking up odd jobs, and he tries not to think about never feeling those hands on him again.

"Fuck off," Peter laughs fondly. Shit, what had Roman said? Probably... Probably the same thing he'd thought then, yeah. _You look so good._

Peter's cock leaks. It had stuck in his happy trail when he moved too fast, but it doesn't, now, whatever weird ghost-maybe-hallucination rules disrupting that part of the memory.

He desperately wishes he could hold onto Peter's thigh. Hairy and strong as Peter is ( _was_ , he remembers, but shoves the thought back down), he's always been petite -- not just in height, half a foot shorter than Roman, but his thighs are the perfect size to _grab_ , like they're made just for Roman to come along and manhandle him when Peter wants him to.

He grips the blankets instead, because he needs to do _something_ with his other hand.

Peter makes a noise in his throat and shuts his eyes, and Roman remembers how tight he'd gotten then, tensed from Roman bumping into something good and sinking lower just because his thighs had weakened.

Peter goes on, and Roman notices things he hadn't seen before. There's a bead of sweat that drips down Peter's temple and all the way down his chest, and he sees the exact moment a strand of hair falls out of place, and the exact moment that passes where Peter is closer to cumming than not and loses any hesitancy. He's not as distracted now as he was then, he guesses, or maybe he's just so desperate for something _new_ that he's taking in every detail he can.

He's barely jerking off, now that he thinks about it, too preoccupied watching Peter, but then the _shaking_ starts. Peter's hips stutter and he gets breathier, and Roman knows he's getting close.

His chest aches because he hadn't realized just how badly he's missed this -- he's missed _everything_ , of course, but he hasn't let himself think about Peter like this since he died.

He isn't trying to get himself off anymore, he just... Watches Peter. Watches the way he loses his rhythm and how he sinks lower as he cums, trying to drag the feeling out as much as he can.

Roman knows in the moment he had given Peter his hand, wrapped it around him as well as he could and helped him over the edge with Peter fucking into it as much as Roman was stroking him, but there's no ghost hand of his that joins the illusion of Peter, no _squeeze_ when he goes off.

(There's a flicker for a moment that _looks_ like cum, like maybe Roman will find it spattered over his stomach again, be able to feel it on him, but it's gone in the same instant.)

Peter nearly collapses once it's been wrung out of him, leaning over and stopping just-about right on top of him (only one person's weight, bed's higher, less dip, he's too close). Peter adjusts his head, tucking his face down against Roman's chest. If he were still here, he'd be overheated and out of breath, and instead, there's nothing.

_I love you,_ Roman mouths to himself. He knows that's what he said then, because it was all he could think. How much he _loved_ Peter, every bit of him and everything about him.

"Love you too," Peter had said, and says it again now.

It sounds the same as it did when he was alive and still loved Roman. Before everything else happened and everything got so complicated and he made a stupid impulse decision that snuffed out the first thing in his life that had ever really mattered. There's no weight on his chest now, no hot breath from Peter speaking and breathing and coming down, no satiated exhaustion in his bones from fucking someone he'd _loved_.

"I miss you," Roman says aloud. Maybe it'll be therapeutic. Maybe he just needs to pretend this is real for a moment before everything comes back. "I'm so sorry, Peter, I --" he chokes, and he feels wet tears sliding down his temples. "All I want is to undo this. I just want you back."

Something changes.

He'd felt alone, before -- Peter was there, kind of, but it was like watching a favorite movie play again and remembering all the lines just before they're said.

Now it feels like he's _there_.

Peter's looking at him.

"I miss you too," Peter whispers. His mouth doesn't move, his face blank and almost scared, but Roman _definitely_ heard it. "I'm trying."

Reality swallows him again, and Roman is left alone again with wet eyes and a bed that feels too big for one person.

What is _happening_ to him?

**Author's Note:**

> you can also find me on tumblr if you want ay


End file.
